


Prisoners At Their Liberty

by Elsajeni



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Community: hobbit_kink, Laketown, M/M, Sneaking Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsajeni/pseuds/Elsajeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Officially, they are not going anywhere for the rest of the night. They have been welcomed, and feasted, and given the use of this fine house and all its servants; now they are expected to rest, and wash, and settle in, and although he stopped short of making it a command, the Master has made it clear that he does not wish to see them among Lake-town society again until morning.</p>
<p><i>Shows how much he knows about dwarves, to think we’d listen to hints</i>, Dwalin thinks, leaning against a desk in the darkened parlor and watching the rest of the Company make their preparations to sneak out into town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prisoners At Their Liberty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/8478.html?thread=18836766#t18836766) on hobbit_kink:
>
>> When the Dwarves arrive in Laketown, it is after being incarcerated for weeks and weeks. They're like prisoners on their first day out. So what do they do after they've been fed and cleaned up?
>> 
>> Each Dwarf has a different idea. Many of them are looking for a shag. Dori wants a strong cup of tea. (Balin wants a strong cup of tea and a shag with Dori.) Ori needs pen and paper to catch up with the chronicles of their adventure. Bombur and Bifur are off to the kitches (Bifur looking for green foods). Dwalin comes with because he needs his sugar fix.
>> 
>> Thorin just wants a hot bubble bath in rose oil water, but he'd never acknowledge that.
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://meressel.tumblr.com/post/66073824203/november-writing-challenge-day-4) on my tumblr. 

Officially, they are not going anywhere for the rest of the night. They have been welcomed, and feasted, and given the use of this fine house and all its servants; now they are expected to rest, and wash, and settle in, and although he stopped short of making it a command, the Master has made it clear that he does not wish to see them among Lake-town society again until morning.

_Shows how much he knows about dwarves, to think we’d listen to hints_ , Dwalin thinks, leaning against a desk in the darkened parlor and watching the rest of the Company make their preparations to sneak out into town.

They filter downstairs, one or two at a time; all of them stop in the front hall and wrap up in their hoods and cloaks, as if hiding their faces and beards will fool the people of Lake-town into thinking them merely very short Men. Then they all mill around a bit, not quite making eye contact with each other, no one apparently willing to be the first one out the door.

Dwalin places a private bet that Fili and Kili will be the first to give in; it seems like them to go out exploring. But they stick close against the wall by the stairs, casting significant glances at each other and, apparently, at Ori. Instead, much to Dwalin’s surprise, it’s Bombur who eventually sighs and announces, “Well, I’m going to the market, whether the rest of you come along or not. I’ve got a family at home, and they’ll be expecting me to send something back.”

”I’ll come along,” Gloin says at once. “Buy some ink and paper — I ought to send a letter home, too.”

“ _Letters_?” Bombur snorts. “Lucky you — mine expect presents, and they’re bloody picky, too. I’ve got one who only wants ponies, one who only wants swords, one who only wants swords with ponies on them...” He’s still listing gifts as he and Gloin round the corner up the street, and Dwalin can’t help a snort of laughter.

"Well, if they’re going, we’re going," Kili declares next, stepping forward and hauling his brother behind him by the elbow. "I want to find a pub. And a girl. But probably a pub first."

"This is a _bad idea_ ,” Fili mutters as he’s dragged out the door, although he doesn’t actually seem to be trying very hard to resist. Dwalin rather agrees with him, and makes a mental note: _May have to fetch those two from the town lockup in the morning. Probably best not to tell Thorin._

Dori seems to be thinking along the same lines; he watches them go, frowning deeply, and as soon as they’re out of sight turns to his own brothers and says firmly, “Neither of you is going _anywhere_. Especially you, Nori — we need these Men on our side, and I won’t have you making trouble.”

"But I need to get to the market, too," Ori protests. "All my papers and inks were ruined in the river. If I’m going to keep records—"

"All right," Dori says, "to the market, and only to the market. And not by yourself. And not with Nori, either. Take someone responsible — Balin, perhaps you wouldn’t mind—"

Balin steps forward from the foot of the stairs, lays an arm across Dori’s shoulders. “I think,” he says, in that I’m-not- _telling_ -you-what-to-do-it’s-just-a-friendly-suggestion tone Dwalin knows so well, “that you ought to go out, too, and relax a bit. Ori will be just fine on his own. You, I think, might enjoy coming along with me — there’s a fine teahouse I recall from the old days, and wouldn’t you know, we passed it on the way in, still open and operating.”

"I... well, of course, if you think..." Dori actually seems to be leaning into Balin’s arm, letting himself be steered toward the door; halfway there, he seems to remember himself and protests, "Here, we’re not supposed to be seen out and about!"

"I wouldn’t worry about that," Balin says cheerfully. "It’s a lovely place — private rooms, very discreet. Although if you’re not interested, of course..."

"Oh, no, not at all," Dori says; his face has the look of a dwarf who can’t believe his luck. "I mean — of course, with such pleasant company—"

"Why, I’m flattered," Balin says, and actually _winks_ as they disappear out the door.

Dwalin resolves to forget he ever saw that; by the looks of them, Nori and Ori are doing the same. They’re interrupted, though, by a clattering of hurried footsteps in the alley outside, and then by Kili reappearing in the doorway, hissing, “Is he gone? Ori, come on, hurry up!”

"You little _schemer_ ,” Nori says with a grin, and then, just as Ori seems about to apologize and retreat back upstairs, adds, “Well done! Go on, then, you three — I’ll follow you a bit of the way, I’ve got business of my own in town—” A moment later they’re gone, too, and Dwalin revises his earlier mental note to include the possibility that three — no, given the smile on Nori's face, better make it four — of their Company will be ending the night in jail.

That leaves only a few more. Dwalin shifts slightly, still leaning against the desk, and keeps watching as they leave, too — first Oin, carrying his nearly-empty medical kit and grumbling about Mannish healers who don’t know the first thing about Dwarvish medicine, and then Bifur and Bofur, chattering away at such a speed that all Dwalin can catch is _greens_ and _soup_ from Bifur’s rapid-flying hands and something about “a treat for the poor wee burglar” from Bofur; evidently they, too, are off to the marketplace.

Then the door shuts behind them, and Dwalin realizes that’s the last of them — only he, Thorin, and the halfling are left in the house, and the halfling, suffering from a miserable head-cold, has been in bed for hours and isn't likely to stir anytime soon.

He climbs the stairs slowly, shedding what little armor he’s still wearing as he goes; by the time he gets to the top and knocks on Thorin’s door, he’s down to shirt and breeches, and is starting on the shirt-buttons when Thorin calls, “Come in,” and he pushes the door open and steps inside.

"They’ve all snuck out," he announces, surveying the room — Thorin is reclining in a Man-sized tub in one corner, steam rising gently from the water around him; a small table is set nearby, covered in bottles and jars, presumably soaps and hair oils and the like, and on the floor at the foot of the tub, there sit a wine-bottle and two glasses. Dwalin gives a low whistle, impressed. "You’ve been busy, haven’t you? How’d you set all this up?"

"They did say to ask the servants for anything we required," Thorin answers, stretching languidly and sliding to the center of the tub, making room — it’s a clear invitation, and Dwalin doesn’t need telling twice; in a moment he’s across the room, shirt and breeches abandoned on the floor behind him, and settling into the warm water behind Thorin. "And what I require is a hot bath, good wine, and good company."

"Then that you shall have," Dwalin says with a grin, and reaches out to pull Thorin backwards into his lap.


End file.
